


The One Where Merlin Is Terrible At Sex And Arthur Is Hopelessly In Love

by Angelike



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bad Sex, First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M, One Shot, Podfic Welcome, Short Story, Virgin!Merlin, bottom!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-12
Updated: 2009-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelike/pseuds/Angelike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is hopelessly virginal. This complicates things a little, but Arthur is nothing if not persistent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Merlin Is Terrible At Sex And Arthur Is Hopelessly In Love

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Та самая история, в которой Мерлин плох в постели, а Артур безнадежно влюблен](https://archiveofourown.org/works/82545) by [TaiD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaiD/pseuds/TaiD)
  * Translation into Español available: [En donde Merlin es terrible en la cama y Arthur está completamente enamorado](https://archiveofourown.org/works/622961) by [saeganzie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saeganzie/pseuds/saeganzie)
  * Translation into 中文 available: [梅林是个糟糕的床伴](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013731) by [joanzyh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joanzyh/pseuds/joanzyh)



Merlin was terrible at sex.

Arthur probably should have anticipated this when Merlin had seemed so confused when Arthur had first kissed him, keeping his lips puckered and pursed together in a wholly ridiculous manner until he had convinced Merlin to open to him. Which he did with an utterly dubious expression on his face, as if the thought of Arthur’s tongue in his mouth was the most distasteful concept he had ever been faced with, but he would try it just because it was Arthur and he had asked. It hadn’t been a very flattering reaction. The awkward fumbling that followed had involved copious amounts of spit, Merlin very nearly choking on his own tongue, some very mild groping that had been altogether too nervous to inspire any sort of real satisfaction, and a decidedly disconcerting end that left Merlin panting and gasping on the floor and Arthur bemoaning the fact that his idiot manservant was even more idiotic than he’d thought. Who forgets to breathe, anyway? The whole affair might have been humorous had Arthur not been so _frustrated_.

That kiss should have proven to him once and for all that Merlin was more trouble than he was worth. Instead it just left him wanting more.

“Country boys probably do things differently,” Arthur had consoled himself. He’d been with a few partners in the past that hadn’t cared much for kissing—too intimate, they’d said, too strange. They had been skilled enough in bed that he hadn’t mourned the lack overmuch. For all that they had refused to brush tongues, they had not minded mouthing _other_ parts of him. Perhaps Merlin was the same way.

And perhaps one day pigs would fly. He should have known that nothing would ever be that easy where Merlin was involved.

It took more than a week to soothe Merlin’s embarrassment enough to tumble him into the sheets. A little careful teasing here, a few allusions to personal humiliations there (none of which had been true, of course; Arthur had taken to sex like a fish to water as any prince should—and if, say, some burly stable boy dared to claim otherwise he was obviously a misguided lying liar who _lied_) and Merlin had been soft and malleable in his hands, wanton as any whore and a hundred times more desirable. Arthur had been desperate with lust. Merlin had seemed more than amenable. All was well. Until it went impossibly, horribly wrong.

First, Merlin came with a surprised groan the instant Arthur slipped his hand down Merlin’s trousers to palm him. Arthur’s face had been close enough to Merlin’s groin that he found himself in the most undignified position of sputtering up at his lover _with come splattered across his face and dribbling from his chin in sticky strings_. Had Merlin not looked so stunned and panic-stricken—lips trembling dangerously as if he might burst into tears at any given moment—Arthur would have surely lost his temper. Instead he found himself brushing off the matter as if things like this happened every day (“You might have _told_ me you needed this so badly.”) and issuing a few half-heartedly imperious commands until Merlin’s pallor had returned from ghastly white to his usual winter-pale.

For some reason Arthur then thought it would be a good idea to have Merlin’s pouty lips wrapped around his cock. It was the least he deserved after being so disgraced. Unfortunately, he stubbornly overlooked the part where Merlin was clearly more inexperienced than he claimed. The teeth had hurt. A lot.

There had been quite a lot of shouting and cursing and the solicitous application of ice wrapped in a neckerchief (Arthur pointedly refused to wonder where said ice had come from) before he had calmed enough to accept that if he wanted any sort of satisfaction that night he would have to stick to the basics and save foreplay for a time when he had both the time and patience to slowly demonstrate and instruct everything step-by-step in terms that even the most hopeless pupil in the history of the world could understand.

Merlin had been contrite enough that he didn’t offer even so much as a token argument when Arthur ordered him on his hands and knees. He just bit his lip and obeyed, presenting his smooth backside for plunder. Arthur salivated, cock twitching with interest. Fuck, but he was beautiful!

He was also blessedly tight. Too tight. Which Arthur realized with dismay after he was already half-buried in that hot body, gritting his teeth against the urge to slam into Merlin like some depraved beast, and grasping around to distract Merlin with a little attention to the boy’s own neglected cock only to find him soft. Nuzzling at his neck, licking up his cheek, he tasted salt. Tears. Merlin was trembling not with _pleasure_ but with _agony_. “No, no—it’s okay!” Merlin had insisted as Arthur withdrew, chest heavy and sick. “I want to do this for you!”

It killed Arthur that Merlin could think he could find gratification in another’s pain. Especially Merlin’s. He never wanted to hurt Merlin.

Arthur’s inclination had been to give up, then. He was a prince and a knight of Camelot. He knew how to make a tactical retreat when necessary. A little time to regroup and delineate a few new strategies and he would have been back in no time, ready to conquer these unexpected obstructions (and Merlin) with care and sheer force of will.

But Merlin had looked so miserable…

There was only one thing for it: Arthur offered his own rear for ravishment.

Merlin was little better at fucking Arthur than he was at being fucked. He spilled the oil, stretched Arthur much too quickly, entered him with neither warning nor finesse, found Arthur’s sensitive spot quite by accident, collapsed on top of him when he came, and _fell asleep_ before Arthur managed to bring himself off.

All told, Merlin was the absolute worst partner Arthur had ever taken. That didn’t mean he had _liked_ waking the next morning to find the place beside him where Merlin should be empty and the boy in question on the other side of the room, struggling into his trousers.

“Merlin?” Arthur said, voice thick with sleep. He cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

Merlin turned to him, expression strained. He looked rather more fucked-over than well-fucked. Pale, shaking, vulnerable: Merlin looked like he could shatter at any moment. “I was just… I—well, I thought…”

“What did you think?” Arthur barked, surprising himself with the sharpness of his tone. This was not how he had imagined their morning after going. Then again, none of his plans had progressed as he’d hoped. Why should this be any different? “Because it looks to me like you were preparing to slink away before I woke up. Is that right?”

Merlin flushed shamefully and looked away. Arthur clenched his teeth. “It’s just that…”

“Just that…?”

“I didn’t want to be around long enough for you to kick me out,” Merlin admitted with quiet, painful honestly.

It was like a punch to the gut. “What?” Why would Merlin think that he would—? Except he didn’t really have a great track record, did he? He’d had his fair share of lovers before and since Merlin’s arrival and the vast majority of them had been… Well, perhaps Arthur may have been a little callous. But this was different. Only Merlin couldn’t know that, could he? Arthur had made his interest known, but there had never been any mention of feelings, now had there? “Oh.” Arthur felt like a heel. Gods be damned, it was too early for this. “I’m not going to kick you out,” he sighed. “Just come back to bed.”

Merlin frowned at him. “No,” he said and reached for the tunic dangling haphazardly from the top of one chair.

Arthur blinked. “No?” he repeated dumbly.

“Look,” Merlin said, peering up at him through dark lashes. “I understand that for some reason you find me attractive. Maybe it’s because I’m different from your usual high-maintenance lovers and you’re looking for a little variety. Maybe it’s because you know your father would be furious if he found out about this and you want to strike out at him. Or maybe it’s because we spend a lot of time together and you want to know what it’s like to be with someone who actually cares about you. Whatever your reason, I can’t... I can’t be what you need. I can’t be _that guy_.”

Arthur’s heart throbbed in his chest. You are that guy, he wanted to say, you’re exactly that guy: the one I’ve been looking for as far back as I can remember. And he wanted to say, I can be what you need, too. But the words wouldn't come.

“I thought maybe I could do it, but waking up next to you… I just…” A soft sob. Arthur’s whole body tensed with the urge to go to Merlin. How could he have been so blind? “I want too much, Arthur. Do you understand? It would be so easy for me to fall for you, but I think last night has proven that I’ll never be able to satisfy you—”

“Fall for me,” Arthur interrupted, throwing back the covers to stalk forward, heedless to his nudity and the icy chill of morning raising gooseflesh all along his skin. “Please, I want you to fall for me.” Merlin stumbled back. “I’ve been a fool, and I’m sorry.” Merlin fell against the table and Arthur sidled between his legs and braced his arms on either side of the wide-eyed boy, thwarting any attempts at escape. He wasn’t going to let Merlin go. It wasn’t even an option. Looking Merlin straight in the eye, he made his confession: “I fell for you ages ago. It took me a long time to recognize what it was and even longer to realize I could have this, have _you_. And I should have told you from the very first how I felt, but, well, Morgana isn’t wrong about Pendragon men: we don’t know how to talk about _feelings_.”

“Arthur,” Merlin sighed, lips trembling.

“All my life,” Arthur breathed, “I’ve been told that emotion is a weakness a ruler can’t afford. And I believed it, because look at my father. Look what love has done to him!” Arthur leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of Merlin’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him. Merlin’s hands tentatively came round to rest at the small of his back. Arthur smiled faintly. “You’ve changed everything for me, Merlin. You’ve taught me that love doesn’t always destroy. For love, for you, I want to be a better man.” He drew away and gazed into conflicted blue eyes. “I don’t want you for one night and I don’t want you for a bit of fun on the side. Don’t go.”

“But I…” Merlin mumbled weakly. “Be serious. You’ll get bored. I can’t… You were there last night. You know…”

“So you’re a lousy lay,” Arthur said flatly, ignoring Merlin’s wince. “Big deal. This isn’t about sex.” Merlin arched an eyebrow, looking vaguely amused—and Arthur knew he’d won. “Okay,” he chuckled softly. “I like sex. I like it quite a lot, in fact. And I really look forward to having quite a lot _with you_. But sex isn’t everything. I want _you_. I need _you_.” He grinned crookedly. “If having you means I have to risk having my cock bit off or what have you, then so be it.”

“Prat,” Merlin scowled. The word was as much an endearment as anything else. “My teeth _barely _grazed you.”

“So you say! I’m not convinced you weren’t trying to castrate me on purpose. Morgana probably put you up to it, the wretched she-devil!” Arthur sniffed, tugging distastefully at Merlin’s ratty blue tunic. He would have to see to it the Merlin’s wardrobe were replaced—if he was going to formally instate him as lover to the prince, it wouldn’t due for him to be dressed in rags. Red would suite him very well… “Take this off and come back to bed. It’s too early to be up.”

“Yes, _my lord_,” Merlin scoffed, but obeyed.

They next time Arthur woke, the sun was streaming brilliant and golden across the bedspread and Merlin was sprawled across the length of the bed and drooling peacefully into Arthur’s chest. Merlin was a terrible bed partner in all respects. Arthur had never been happier.

“I’ll make you happy, too,” he swore, running his fingers affectionately through tangled curls. “You’ll see.”


End file.
